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“Yeah but, I mean, just in case,” I said, looking around, “we should ransack the place for clues. Spread out!”
We all scattered as if pawing through someone else’s stuff was the most fun we’d had in weeks. But an hour later, we gathered in the kitchen, still no closer to an answer.
“I found this, though,” Gazzy said excitedly, holding up a small green box. “Gas-X! Like, ‘X’ for explosion! This is great! I’m thinking I rig this with a detonator, and—”
“Did you find that in the medicine cabinet?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s for upset stomachs,” Dylan said, trying to hide a smile. He pointed to the words on the box. “It’s to reduce gas in your digestive system, not to create more gas to make explosions.”
Gazzy’s face fell as Iggy said, “Really? Gazzy, take it! Take the whole box!”
“I second that emotion!” said Total.
“Okay,” I said sharply. “Moving on. Did anyone else find anything?”
Iggy looked sheepish. “I found this,” he said, holding up a cell phone. “It’s Ella’s. I felt bad going through her stuff, but if it’ll help us find her…”
It took Nudge about a minute and a half to hack into the phone and bypass the security codes.
“She’s slipping,” Gazzy said, checking his watch.
“Am not!” Nudge said crossly. “It’s overlaid with extra protection. It’s weird. But I think I’m in. Hang on.” She got a small cord and connected the phone to our laptop.
“Okay, now we’ll all be able to see everything in the phone,” she said, pointing to the computer screen.
A bunch of patchwork gibberish shot across the monitor, and I was reminded of that computer guy, the one we’d just seen in the desert. His computer had done stuff like this when we’d first met him in the subway tunnels.
“Slow it down,” I said, as Nudge’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
The images suddenly halted, and Nudge started scrolling through them.
“Well, look at that,” said Dylan.
We saw photographs of the Gen 77 facility Dylan and I had gone to the day before. There were floor plans, all labeled, and photos of the interior and exterior of the building.
“What?” said Iggy. “What is it?”
“That weird facility Max and I checked out,” Dylan said, pointing. “And there are those spider-eyed kids.”
We also saw a couple of pictures of what looked like a cafeteria. I suppose even Gen 77 kids had to eat. I followed Dylan’s finger to the images of our pals, the many-eyed fighters.
There were also text messages about meetings and a ton of background banners repeating the phrases “The Earth or Us” and “Kill the Humans.” There was even a motivational video of some chick with a hypnotic voice and really beautiful eyes.
“Let’s see what other pearls of propaganda the cult sent to Ella,” I said.
Nudge expertly turned the innards of Ella’s phone inside out, which revealed a bunch of scientific gibberish about unraveling DNA strands and inserting alternate DNA and RNA into the them. It sounded eerily familiar. Like we-were-injected-with-bird-DNA-and-raised-in-cages familiar. Angel raised an eyebrow at me, reading my thoughts, and I remembered her panicked message at Ella’s school about humanicide.
I sat back and let out a long breath. “Well, I guess we’ve got a date with doom,” I said melodramatically.
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.
“Looks like Ella’s definitely at the facility. If she’s all cute and cuddly with the Doomsday Group, we have to go save her, even if she tries to eat our brains,” I said. “We leave in five minutes.”
43
“WHOA! WHAT’S DOWN there?” Dylan pointed to a small flame on the ground, about a mile away. The six of us, plus Total, had set off from my mom’s house and headed southeast when it was already getting dark, and now we were about five or six miles from the Gen 77 facility.
